


Don’t Trust the B in 221 C

by MAAS33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, I REGRET NOTHING, Original Character(s), Poor Life Choices, Poor Mycroft, Romance, Secret Organizations, Self-Indulgent, Timeline What Timeline, irregular updates, no beta-we die like men, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28424151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAAS33/pseuds/MAAS33
Summary: Sherlock and John mistakenly get tangled up in a plot to steal information from MI6. Their involvement compromises not only their own lives, but the lives of their new neighbor and her friend who seem a little too interested in their work. With a little convincing and a gun, the girls become a new and strange part of the boys’ lives.Secrets will be revealed.Love will blossom.Faces will be punched.———“You’re not serial killers or anything, right?” She suddenly asked. “Because I’m not sure if you know, but you’ve got a jar of eyeballs down here.”“Experiment!” Sherlock exclaimed as if that explained anything.“Well alrighty then,” she said and pushed the jar aside and slid into the cabinet. “S’long as there’s no rats.”“You’re strangely okay with that,” John said as he stepped around the woman watching her work.“Worked in a morgue for a while. Dead bodies don’t really freak me out. Seems they don’t bother you two either considering what y’all do. A detective and a doctor, right?”
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Original Female Character(s), Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. An Agent and a Criminal Walk into an Alley

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story is super self-indulgent, half serious and half crack. I haven’t outlined the entire plot yet, but hop on if you want to go for a ride. Updates will be periodically.
> 
> I regret nothing.

Breathing frantic, a hooded figure rushed around the side of a building into an alley desperate to evade her pursuer. Under her black hoodie, she had her blonde hair pinned up and out of her face. Bright green eyes searched ahead trying to find a clear path amongst the trash cans and junk piled against the sides. The man was not far behind her, his footsteps heavy against London’s wet pavement, his own adrenalin pushing him towards his target.

A chain link fence stood between her and the opposite side of the alley. She leaped forward, clinging to the cold metal and climbing before she flung herself over the top. Luckily, there was a bar across and not the usual prongs so she avoided injury. Against her better judgement she glanced over the top of the fence as she fell and saw the man turning down the alley, a gun brandished in his hand.

Panic rose in her throat for a brief moment and she lost her footing as she landed. She scrambled to her feet as a shot rang out striking the ground next to her face. The bullet ricocheted off the ground and into a trash can emitting a loud clang that made her run faster than she had. She could see the street beyond the alley and knew her time was running out. She couldn’t risk being seen by anyone else from the man’s team or else she was dead. She knew they’d be waiting close by. Surely he’d already called the theft in but even her pursuer hadn’t gotten a great look at her. After a split second decision, she slowed her pace and fell forward as another shot rang out from behind her. With practiced ease, she lay motionless on the ground and let him come in closer.

“Got ya, ya little cunt,” his voice rattled with a thick accent. “Where’s it?”

She mumbled incoherently on purpose knowing he’d get close enough to turn her over. He kicked her in the side and when she groaned, he used his foot to nudge her body over. Mumbling again, she baited her time. He crouched next to her, his gun to her head pushing against blonde curls.

“I said where’s it.”

“3, 7, 4, 11,” her soft voice echoed against the pavement with an upper London lilt.

“What?”

“The code. You’ll need it for the safe.”

“Where’s the safe at? Answer before I end it for ya,” he pushed the barrel harder against her skull.

“You blow my head off and I guarantee you’ll never find it,” she taunted. All she needed was an opening and like she suspected, he was about to give it to her.

His thick fingers wound in her hair and yanked her upward and she stole a second to grab her gun from the holster hidden beneath her clothing. She fired one shot into his kneecap. He howled and fell forward as she rocked back onto her haunches and fired another shot into his skull.

The man hadn’t even had a moment to process exactly what had happened before his head snapped back with the force of the bullet. The woman breathed heavily as she placed the gun back in its holster. Gathering herself, she stood and braced to lift the body into one of the dumpsters against the building. The area she was in had a prevalent rat problem and while she hadn’t spotted any while running through the alley, she knew a body would be too tempting for the hungry rodents to pass up.

“Need a hand, Siri?” Another female voice, one quite American, broke the silence and the woman was quick to pull out her weapon again, aiming it at the figure at the entrance of the alley.

“Easy there. Just me,” she said, pulling off her hood to reveal herself to the blonde woman. “How’s my favorite informant?”

The brunette was dressed casually, in a dark blue windbreaker, black leggings, and laced boots. The blonde bit back her smile as she realized just who was standing before her.

“Ghost,” she greeted sounding relieved. “Did you track me on your own?” Siri asked as she grabbed the man’s arms.

“Had a little help from Mouse,” Ghost explained as she grabbed the legs and helped move the body towards the dumpster. They lay him down for a moment while they pried the lid open.

“Ugh,” Ghost cringed at the sight of several rats scurrying deeper into the garbage inside. “Fucking rats!”

Looking over to Siri, she spoke again. “Heard you were on your last assignment for a while. That true?”

“Yeah,” Siri confirmed and pulled a USB drive from her front pocket. “List of rouge M16 agents courtesy of one of the agents themselves. Agent Brian Sean Holt.” She toed the body revealing the face of the man. “Wasn’t much of a challenge. He just ran information. No real field experience, but damn was he a fast fucker.”

The two of them groaned in unison as they lifted and tipped the man over into the bin. Ghost grabbed a few boxes off the side and threw them on top of the body before Siri closed the lid.

“Still got that safe house?”

“It’s more of a home now, but yeah still where its always been,” Siri nodded. “Unusual to run into you, especially here of all places. Isn’t that rule ten? Never congregate unless necessary.”

Ghost let out a breath, deciding to be upfront about the situation. “After Bogota-,” she began but was cut off by Siri.

“I heard that was a mess. And even after I got you all the intel you needed,” she teased smugly.

“Look, it was a mess. I’ll admit that. Still got the payout, but for the time being I’m on a leave of sorts and I figured what better place to stay than with my favorite coworker in London,” Ghost grinned.

“You’re laying it on quite thick,” she mused at Ghost. “That the best you got?”

The brunette’s smile fell. “Yeah. I already have a place planned out, but I can’t get there until tomorrow.”

“Well, you know where to go. Meet you there?”

With another smile, Ghost unzipped her windbreaker and handed it to Siri. Understanding immediately, Siri pulled off her own hoodie and switched with Ghost. As they pulled their hoods up, Ghost extended a hand to the blonde woman.

“There’s an unmarked van down the street. Black. They’re looking for you already. I’ll head uptown and loop back. Thank you,” she added.

“Welcome to London, Ghost,” Siri said shaking the woman’s hand.

Shaking her head, Ghost decided to formally introduce herself. “Lucy Adams.”

Siri smiled slyly before offering her own name. “Iris Hastings.”

“Ah, Iris is Siri backwards,” Lucy noted.

“No,” Iris corrected. “Siri is Iris backwards,” she teased before heading towards the street.

Lucy watched her go before taking earbuds out of a pocket in her leggings and popping them in as she jogged towards the other side of the street. She silently gave the agents two minutes before they were on her. Continuing her jog, she braced herself as she was thrown against the side of the building, brick digging into her palms.

“Ow, what the fuck?!” She screeched acting scared. “If you want money just take my wallet!”

A rough looking man turned her around, slamming her back against the wall and pulled her hood off. His brown eyes scanned her own hazel ones before he mumbled an explicative.

“It’s not her,” he barked at the other two standing close by. “Sorry, police business.” He uttered lamely and pushed her forward. “Get out of here.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said holding up her hands in front of her before sprinting away, hiding the grin on her face. They hadn’t even noticed the knives hidden in her boots. 

————

When Lucy entered the flat at 57 Causton Street, Iris was standing in the kitchen over a kettle with two mugs on the counter. She knew who it was by the three staggered taps on the front door, a code everyone in The Family knew.

“Glad to see you made it. Tea?”

Lucy waltzed in and sat in one of the chairs at the table pushed against the wall.

“Yes, please. They spot you?”

“Drove right past me.”

“Idiots,” Lucy laughed, her head laying against the beige wall. She looked around the flat, noting the details. The last time she was here, there was a mattress on the floor and a semi-functional stove, but now it looked like a real home. One wall in the living area, that actually had a couch now, was dedicated to a floor to ceiling bookcase sporting an impressive collection.

Iris set a mug in front of Lucy before sitting across from her. She watched as the woman looked over her home, realizing it had been a very long time since the two had seen each other.

“There’s a 9 MM in War and Peace,” Iris said evenly.

“And the rest of your stash?” Lucy pried.

“Can’t let you in on all my secrets yet,” she teased. “Haven’t seen you since Sweden. Though, you always manage to find a way to pester me.”

The brunette snorted in amusement. “That was a fucking trip.”

Taking a sip of the tea, Earl Grey by the taste of it, Lucy continued. “What can I say, Iris? You’re my lucky charm. Couldn’t have made it out without you.”

Iris hummed, a sly smirk on her lips at the woman’s praise. “So where is this place you have set up?”

Lucy pulled out her phone, unlocking it and sliding it over to Iris.

“I saw the ad when I arrived earlier, but I just had enough time to track you down.”

The blonde hummed as she looked the address over. “221 C Baker Street? That’s fairly close. I guess I’ll be seeing you more often than I thought.”

The other woman let out an exaggerated gasp. “What a blessing for you!” The two tittered and continued to sip their tea.

“And the rest of your,” Iris paused trying to find the right word., eventually settling on “stuff?”

“Brought what I could on me. Boss is handling the rest of the transport,” Lucy explained.

“I supposed it’s hard to get your arsenal on a plane.”

“That it is.”

The rest of the night passed in silence while Iris retired to her bedroom and Lucy made herself comfortable on the couch. The windows were screened so very little morning light filtered through making it easy for the woman to sleep. She had had a rough forty-eight hours and was glad Iris had allowed her to stay. Sleeping outside again would not have been ideal.

It was the whistle of the kettle that startled Lucy awake and it took a second for her remember exactly where she was. Silently, she slipped the knife back into her sock.

“I see you haven’t lost your edge,” Iris said as she made another round of tea.

“How much fucking tea do y’all drink?” Lucygroaned as she got herself up and into the kitchen.

“Don’t complain,” Iris chastised and handed her a mug. “You Americans need to learn to enjoy it.”

“Have you had coffee?”

“I have and it’s garbage.”

“Oh fuck you,” Lucy chuckled. “After this I’ll be out of your hair.”

“For now,” Iris added.

Lucy nodded in agreement. “Oh you’ll be seeing me. I need a handler.”

———

Before making her way to Baker Street, Lucy stopped at the station and headed to the rental lockers. Pulling a ticket out of her back pocket, she punched the code into the keypad and retrieved a duffel bag from inside. She slung it over her shoulder and then grabbed the pair of black sunglasses at the back of the locker. She slid them on and left the station.

Not long after, she approached a door marked 221 B and knocked. She heard movement from inside before the black door opened revealing an small older woman. Lucy gave her a big smile.

“Mrs. Hudson?”

The woman blinked and tilted her head clearly not expecting the American accent. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

“Hi there. I’m Lucy Adams,” she said cheerfully, extending her hand to her. “I messaged you about 221 C yesterday.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed suddenly peeking up. “Yes, please do come in. Can I get you some tea, love?”

“No thank you, ma’am. I had my fill this morning.” She followed the woman into the building and then down a short hallway.

“Let me show you the flat, but to be honest, I’ve had such a hard time renting it out.”

Lucy hummed as they reached a set of stairs. Mrs. Hudson unlocked the door and ushered the younger woman inside.

“It could use a bit of work, but it’s got quite a bit of space down here.”

The woman looked over the room, analyzing the details. Solid concrete walls behind peeling wallpaper. High, narrow windows that limited the view inside. A vent she most definitely could fit through.

Walking around, she continued thinking about the space and location. Lucy could tell Mrs. Hudson was the kind of older woman who was nosy and eager for the gossip of others, and while she could do without that, Lucy couldn’t have asked for a better hideout.

“It’s perfect, Mrs. Hudson. Can I pay six months advance in cash?”


	2. An American Ghost in London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John meet the new tenant of 221 C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think.

Sherlock and John were returning from Scotland Yard when they heard chatter from Mrs. Hudson’s flat.

“She has guests you think?” John asked Sherlock.

“Most likely. She sounds excited,” he muttered lowly while they made their way upstairs.

The door to the flat opened and Mrs. Hudson called out to the two.

“Boys! Oh, you’re back so soon. Come meet the new tenant,” she urged turning back inside the doorway. “Lucy, these are the boys that rent 221 B.”

Lucy met them at the door when they came back down the few steps they’d gone up. She smiled, waving from her spot next to Mrs. Hudson.

“Hi, Lucy Adams. Nice to meet you,” she greeted.

John smiled back warmly, extending his hand out to the woman. “John Watson. Pleasure.” When she shook his hand, he spoke again. “What brings you to London? American right?”

“Accent is Southern, but not the traditional South. No, further. Texas?” Sherlock muttered examining Lucy and then extended his hand to her. “Sherlock Holmes.”

The woman blinked before laughing awkwardly as she shook his hand. “South Texas,” she admitted. “I heard you were good, but that’s amazing.”

He hadn’t let go of her hand yet and turned it, continuing to analyze her. “What does bring you here, hmm?”

“A change of pace mostly.”

He was silent for a moment before his eyes found hers and he dropped her hand. “Your hands are scarred and calloused which tells me you work with your hands often, but unlike most manual laborers your knuckles are scarred. Several layers in fact. You’ve fought quite a bit, haven’t you? Tell me was it MMA or boxing?”

“Damn, you got me. MMA. Started at sixteen,” she mused eyeing the man. “What else did you get?”

“Some are quite recent. You’re still active, but there’s not much of a scene for that in Central London, so why not just stay in the U.S? Ah, because you’re running from something right? Yes, that’s it,” he huffed before continuing.

“And your clothes are wrinkled so you’ve slept in them recently. Most likely last night. Casual, loose,” he noted. “So you knew the place you stayed last night. Felt comfortable there. A friend’s? Why find an expensive flat when you could stay somewhere else for plenty less?”

John and Mrs. Hudson held their breath while he deduced the woman, worried that she would take it poorly and decide not to rent after all. Mrs. Hudson was about to give the man a good whack if he lost her the only tenant that was interested in the damp basement.

“Mr. Holmes,” Lucy began, smile still plastered on her face, but Sherlock could tell it was strained.

“Sherlock, please,” he corrected her.

She nodded. “My friend’s place is too small for both of us. And as for running away, that’s not the case, sorry to break it to you. I’m out of work for a while, and I decided to take a long, long vacation with what I’ve managed to save up. That a problem?”

“Can you fix our sink?”

Confused, Lucy nodded feeling like she got whiplash from the quick change in the detective.

“We’ve got a leak upstairs and it’s quite unbearable. John’s no use at that sort of thing,” he explained.

“Hey now!” John protested as Lucy barked out a laugh, relief evident in her body language.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me just unload my junk and I’ll be up in a minute.”

Sherlock turned up the stairs without another word, but John turned towards her. “Sorry about him. He’s a right arse.”

“No worries,” she waved him off. “I did ask him to read me.”

“Deduce,” Sherlock corrected from the top step.

“Read,” Lucy argued back teasingly.

When the door to the flat upstairs closed, Mrs. Hudson turned to her newest tenant. “You’ll do well here, love.” 

———

Lucy knocked on the door and was quickly let in by John. Sherlock was sitting in an armchair absentmindedly plucking the strings on a violin.

“Thanks for coming, Lucy.”

“No problem. Which faucet?” She held up a wrench and for a moment John thought she looked terrifying brandishing it with that wide smile of hers.

“Kitchen sink. Excuse Sherlock’s mess.”

“It’s not all me,” Sherlock scoffed from his seat.

“It’s mostly you,” John chastised.

Lucy was already crouched down and crawling under the sink.

“You’re not serial killers or anything, right?” She suddenly asked. “Because I’m not sure if you know, but you’ve got a jar of eyeballs down here.”

“Experiment!” Sherlock exclaimed as if that explained anything.

“Well alrighty then,” Lucy pushed the jar aside and slid into the cabinet. “S’long as there’s no rats.”

“You’re strangely okay with that,” John said as he stepped around the woman watching her work.

“Worked in a morgue for a while. Dead bodies don’t really freak me out. Seems they don’t bother you two either considering what y’all do. A detective and a doctor, right?”

“Yeah, did-,”

“Mrs. Hudson gave me the run down.”

“Course she did,” John nodded.

“You’re gonna need a new trap. If you tell me where the closest hardware store is I can go grab one,” she explained pulling herself up.

John offered his hand to her and helped her get to her feet. “No, don’t worry about that. I’ll pick one up from the shop if you don’t mind stopping by tomorrow?”

“That works for me,” she agreed.

“Would you like some tea?” John asked grabbing the kettle.

“No. Thank you though.”

“There’s no furniture in your flat,” Sherlock spoke up as his finger plucked a string again.

“Great deduction,” she teased. “I’ll get some eventually.”

“Where will you sleep tonight?” John questioned. “Your friend’s?”

“Eh, that’s an option,” she shrugged. “But I’d hate to bother her again. There’s a thrift store around here right? I’m sure they’ve got the basics.”

“Three blocks,” Sherlock stated.

“No, you can stay here at least until you settle in. I’ll take the couch,” John said gesturing to the couch by the door.

Lucy shook her head. “And they say chivalry is dead,” she joked. “But that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

“Slept on worse?” Sherlock asked.

“You guessed it,” she affirmed. “Summers in Texas are no joke especially when you’re stuck outside.”

“Why were you stuck outside?”

“It’s called camping, Sherlock,” Lucy said as she headed for the door. “Well, I’ll leave you boys be. I’m going to head over to that shop and see what they have. John, you know where to find me when you get that trap.”

“Yes, thank you again. I’ll let you know. It was nice to meet you, Lucy.”

“See y’all!” She waved as she closed the door.

John turned to Sherlock. “She’s nice.”

“Hmm, I suppose so. A bit odd though.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” John said rolling his eyes.

———

Lucy had managed to snag an old couch in amazing condition as well as two heavy, wooden chairs and a square breakfast table. The man running the store was nice enough to volunteer his son to help her get the furniture to her new home. She had assured him she would only need help getting the couch in, though he insisted he could carry the table in for her as well.

“I’m glad we got ya these, miss, but is that gonna be enough for ya? Where’re ya planning to sleep?” The young man asked her. He was a sweet boy, with a slight cockney accent that Lucy found endearing. He looked around the mostly empty room. “D’you have anything?”

“I have a mattress coming later today,” she lied not wanting the boy to worry. “I’ll be good. The remainder of my stuff is getting shipped here. Anyway, thanks for your help.” The rest was not a lie.

He smiled at her and promised they’d give her a call if they got any similar chairs or a coffee table. After settling down, she sat on the surprisingly comfortable couch and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Closing her eyes, she could hear Mrs. Hudson upstairs walking around her flat, occasionally flying over to the couch when the phone rang. She strained listening for the boys’ flat, but she was too far below them to hear anything. The pair intrigued her, but part of her worried that eventually the clever detective would deduce that her story wasn’t one hundred percent true. Debating for a moment she pulled out her cell and dialed out.

——— 

Iris has spent her morning after Lucy’s unexpected arrival catching up on her reading. With all the requested data collection, she’d fallen far behind on her list of books and was currently enthralled with The Nightingale.

Her personal cell, the one not associated with any of the underground business she got up to, rang from its place on the coffee table. Sighing she snatched it up and answered. “Yes?”

“You will never guess who my neighbor is,” Lucy’s voice echoed through the receiver.

“Should you really be calling me on this line?” Iris asked in amusement. Truly, Ghost, or rather Lucy, was one of the only other agents she had worked with that she could stand. She was reliable and good at what she did, despite being so easy going.

“Probably not,” Lucy admitted. “So are you going to guess?”

“The Queen of England?”

“Oh fuck off,” she laughed. “There’s a famous detective or something like that living upstairs. Sherlock Holmes.”

“You’re kidding,” Iris said sitting up straighter. She had seen the blog, the papers, and the bloody news. That man was a certified genius and she immediately thought Lucy should be getting out of that flat before he figured anything out. “You should find a new flat.”

“He’s harmless, and besides I can’t leave now. That would be more suspicious.”

“True.”

“Exactly, and I’m fixing a leak in their kitchen later.”

“Their?”

“Him and his partner. His name’s John Watson. They share the apartment-sorry-flat upstairs.”

“Interesting,” Iris mused. “But, really, you should consider moving. Who knows how much trouble he’ll bring home.”

“If I feel endangered, I’m moving back in with you.”

“Oh fuck off, Lucy,” she laughed.


	3. Abducted in Plain Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy and Iris meet the infamous Mycroft Holmes. All does not go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing this journey with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think.

It hadn’t even been a week of living in Baker Street when Lucy heard gunshots from upstairs. She jumped up from her newly purchased bed, grabbing her Colt 9mm from beneath the mattress. She figured the gunfire wasn’t because of her. After all, only Boss and Iris knew where she was, however, any gunfire was a threat.

Creeping towards the door, she pulled it open and peeked into the stairwell. Another shot followed by shouting echoed through the hallway. Lucy distinctly heard Mrs. Hudson cry out.

“Fuck me,” the young woman muttered and ran up the stairs trying to make as little noise as possible, her gun in front of her defensively. All her training had taught her that escaping was priority number one, but Lucy found that she had grown soft for the older woman and would be incredibly disappointed if anything happened to her.

“Sherlock Holmes, you stop that right now!” Mrs. Hudson screeched before turning around. Lucy hid the gun quickly, tucking it into the back of her pants and pulling her shirt over it.

“Mrs. Hudson, is everything okay?”

“No it is not, Lucy. Oh, that boy! He’s shooting the wall again like a maniac!” She shouted frustrated.

“You want me to confiscate the gun?” She offered as the woman stepped off the stairs.

“Oh if only, love,” she replied shaking her head and walking into her room, slamming the door behind her.

“Promise not to shoot me if I come up, Sherly?” Lucy called from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m bored!” He shouted back. “Bored! Bored! Bored!” He stormed to the open doorway. “I need a case!”

“A case of alcohol?” Lucy suggested and nearly laughed out loud when Sherlock gave her a confused look.

“What? No! A case!” He emphasized the word again. “A criminal case for me to solve!”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you the first time,” Lucy waved him off. “If you could just stop shooting the wall, Mrs. Hudson and I would really appreciate it. Or I could go take your gun?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Then stop shooting. Bye Sherlock.” The younger woman waved over her shoulder as she returned to her room and let out an exasperated sigh. The man was crazy and this was fixing to be a problem.

———

“I take it back, Iris. He’s fucking nuts.”

“He sounds like he has issues,” she agreed. “Maybe you should move out?” She pressed the matter again.

Lucy let out a long groan before responding. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I can manage myself.” She didn’t want to give in quite yet, but she thought she may have to if Sherlock’s antics continued.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Iris hummed. She was currently flipping through a file Boss had forwarded to her. Even though she was supposed to be on holiday, the information had to do with the rogue MI6 agents file she had collected. There were still seven agents at large and while it really wasn’t any of The Family’s business to deal with, several of them had sensitive information that Boss wanted. Iris’ specialty was information gathering, but from intel, physical documents, and codes. Her behind the scenes work outweighed her field work, but perhaps Lucy could be of assistance.

“Would you like to join me for a late lunch? I have something of interest to show you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lucy agreed. “Now where to meet?”

“I’ll meet you outside your flat. Give me thirty minutes.”

“Counting down now,” Lucy said before ending the call.

Exactly twenty-seven minutes later, Lucy was standing outside wrapped in a maroon cable sweater and jeans. Still unused to the chilly English weather, she had pulled on leggings underneath for extra warmth. Peeking at her phone, she double checked the time and began looking for Iris around the street.

A sleek, black car was parked close by caught her attention and Lucy eyed it suspiciously from behind her sunglasses. The car was still running and the windows were tinted so she couldn’t see inside. That was never a good sign.

Lucy began making her way down the street, away from the flat and noticed the car begin to creep forward into the slow traffic passing by. She grabbed her phone and began to dial Iris to inform her, but then saw the woman coming around the corner in a long, hunter green sweater and leggings. Before putting the phone back in her pocket, it rang showing an unknown number. Hesitantly, Lucy answered the call right as Iris stopped in front of her and the car pulled up beside them.

“Miss Adams, there is a black car next to you,” a masculine voice said on the other line.

“I can see that,” she said evenly.

“Get in,” the man ordered.

“That’s gonna be a hard no.” Lucy began pushing past Iris, grabbing her arm and pulling her along.

“You may want to rethink your decision. I can make it worth your while. I’ll even let you bring your friend,” he taunted.

“Again, no thanks,” she insisted and ended the call. The two women hurried down the street, Iris giving her associate a worried look. As they came to the corner, the black car suddenly stopped in front of them, the window rolling down to reveal a young woman with a phone in hand.

“I really must insist you get in,” she said not looking at the women.

“We don’t really feel like being kidnapped,” Lucy argued, her flight senses kicking in. She wondered if they had been made and began to inch away from the car.

“We’ll go,” Iris interrupted and opened the car door to her companion’s surprise.

“Are you-,” Lucy started but was cut off again by Iris.

“It’s fine,” she insisted slipping in besides the other woman seated inside.

Trusting Iris, Lucy relented and slid in next her with a sigh, her eyes locked onto the woman in black sitting across from them. She still hadn’t looked up at them, still typing away on her phone.

“And you are?” Lucy pried.

“Anthea,” she hummed after a beat of silence.

“Not your real name, I’m assuming,” Iris shrugged.

“Is Iris Hastings yours?” The woman countered causing the blonde to stiffen slightly. 

———

The car came to a halt inside a warehouse. Anthea opened the door, ordering the two to stay put, before exiting and disappearing behind a stack of crates.

“Want to tell me why we got in the car?” Lucy asked.

“It’s a government car,” Iris began in a whisper. “I’ve memorized most of the government officials and their counterparts for the last job I did. She’s the chief personal assistant of Mycroft Holmes.”

“Holmes?”

“And you just moved in next to his brother, which means this isn’t about us. It’s about Sherlock.”

“Well,” Lucy paused taking in the information. “I guess we better behave.”

“I always behave. It’s you that has problems,” Iris chastised with a forced smile.

Anthea returned and motioned for them to follow her. Lucy was surprised she hadn’t tripped over her heels considering she never looked at the ground, too lost in whatever was on her phone. There were two chairs waiting for the women as well as a tall, lanky man in a well-fitted suit swinging an umbrella.

“Good afternoon, Miss Adams,” he said and turned to Iris. “Miss Hastings, is it?”

“Uh yeah, hi. So is there a reason we’re being kidnapped?” Lucy interrupted.

“I wouldn’t say kidnapped,” he smiled at the two of them.

“I would,” she sassed back.

“My, my, you are touchy, aren’t you? Perhaps you’d like to sit down, ladies.”

“I’d rather not,” Iris said moving closer to Lucy.

“Same here,” Lucy agreed, her hand slowly moving toward the knife tucked into her knee length boot as a precaution. Mycroft Holmes was intimidating to say the least, but the women had seen many men like him before. Lucy, in particular, had dealt with them in a more hands on way and felt well prepared to kill if necessary.

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Adams,” the man stopped swinging the umbrella, instead using it as a cane.

“Just Lucy,” she snapped.

“If you insist,” his tone became sharp. “Lucy, if you pull out that weapon I will have you shot. And may I remind you that carrying that type of blade in England is illegal.”

“Well maybe I don’t feel safe,” Lucy stepped forward. “We don’t even know who you are or what you want.”

“Well that’s what I’d like to discuss.”

“Get on with it then,” Iris urged.

Mycroft facade fell into an annoyed expression before quickly changing back into a more pleasant demeanor.

“To best explain, I want information on Sherlock Holmes. He, on occasion, makes unfortunate decisions and I worry about him constantly.”

“So you have a big brother complex?” Iris asked.

“Pardon?”

“Really isn’t that hard to figure out since you brought him up. Your neck,” Iris fibbed and Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “And the crease in your brow. Structurally similar to Sherlock, though I’m reaching a bit as I’ve only seen him in the papers. Your facial features are quite different, but there still some faint similarities. So brothers, right? And obviously,” she eyed the man up and down. “You must be the older one.”

Mycroft grimaced, dropping the pleasantries and confirmed what the women already knew while reluctantly introducing himself.

“I’m not going to spy on your brother for you. Do what everyone else does and call him,” Lucy spoke up once he finished his proposition.

“We haven’t even talked figures,” Mycroft grabbed a folded piece of paper from his suit jacket.

“Like we said,” Iris stopped him.

“We’re not interested and we’d like to get backnow. You wouldn’t wanna get between me and lunch, I’ll tell you that,” Lucy smirked.

“As an American citizen, you may want to rethink not assisting the British government.”

“What are you gonna do?” She took another step forward, smirk still painted on. “Deport me?”

“Demanding deportation for not assisting in something of a personal matter? How unbecoming of a British official,” Iris taunted.

“Perhaps you’ll change your mind,” Mycroft closed the distance between himself and Lucy and slipped a business card into her hand. He was trying to use his superior height and overwhelming authority to intimidate her, and while the woman did appreciate a good suit, she wasn’t going to back down to the auburn haired man in front of her. She kept her chin high as she stared him down in an unimpressed fashion. “I’m sure you’ll grow tired of him and his recklessness soon, Lucy.”

“I’m already tired of him,” she quipped before tucking the business card back into his breast pocket and giving it a good pat. “Goodbye, Mr. Holmes.”

———

After getting dropped off outside Speedy’s, Lucy turned to Iris as they moved to enter the café. “So Iris Hastings?” She questioned. Luckily for the two, the place was mostly empty and after getting dragged off to god knows where with Mycroft Holmes, they weren’t in the mood of going far.

Iris scoffed as she followed her associate. “And you’re going to tell me Lucy Adams is your real name?”

“In a way,” Lucy snickered and found a table near the back.

“Iris is my real name,” the blonde said as she sat opposite Lucy. “Hastings is the town where my mother grew up.”

“Lucy is technically a nickname,” the brunette admitted.

“Short for Lucinda?”

“Thankfully not. Anyway, I was always called Lucy so at this point it may as well be my legal name.”

“Fair enough,” Iris shrugged.

“But he knows,” Lucy pressed.

“I know,” she sighed. “I don’t know how much he knows.”

“About you or the job?”

“About everything.”

“Shit.” Lucy paused not knowing what to do now. There was always leaving, but she knew that would make Mycroft suspicious and the last thing they needed was him coming after them. It was probably best to stay in London, but lay low and out of the way at least until they could disappear safely. Lucy groaned in frustration before offering a suggestion.

“So let’s get drunk about it?”

“Your file says you have a drinking problem, but I didn’t think it was true,” Iris chuckled.

“Nah,” she waved the agent off. “It’s pretty much figured out.”

“Fine, but tomorrow morning I’ll need your help with something,” Iris said outstretching her hand across the table.

Lucy reached across and shook the woman’s hand. “Deal.”


	4. To Drink or Not to Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I’m trying to get updates out as soon as I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Lucy and Iris stumbled into back into 221 Baker Street clutching brown paper bags. They had started their drinking binge at a pub close by, but when the evening approached and more people came in, they headed back, stopping at a liquor store on the way home. Lucy gestured to the stairs that led to the flat in the basement and Iris quickly pushed past her to head down there.

“I haven’t been this drunk in a long time,” she laughed as she grabbed onto the railing.

“We’ve barely started,” Lucy barked out in a laugh. “And we’re just buzzin’.”

“We’ll end up pissed by the end of this.”

“Pissed? That mean drunk?”

“Yeah,” Iris giggled.

“Just say wasted,” Lucy whined mockingly.

The door behind them opened and the two women watched as John and Sherlock entered the building. Sherlock saw them first and rolled his eyes, huffing at their drunken state.

“Enjoyed yourself a little too much I see,” he commented.

“You two alright?” John asked with a smile.

“Just picked up a couple bottles to keep the party going. Y’all just getting home? Case keep you busy?” Lucy asked. “Oh sorry, forgot my manners. This is a friend of mine,” she gestured to the blonde.

“Iris Hastings. Pleasure,” she waved from her place on the stairs.

“John Watson,” John greeted the woman offering his hand to her which she shook.

“And you’re the famous detective, I’ll take it,” Iris said to Sherlock.

“Consulting detective,” he corrected. “But yes, Sherlock Holmes. Good to meet you. And yes, we were working a case.”

“You catch the guy?” Iris shook his hand.

“Woman, and yes, we did,” Sherlock explained.

“Nice. Lucy?” She tilted her head towards the flat downstairs.

“Yeah,” Lucy moves to follow but then stopped. “Would you boys care to join us? Call it a celebratory drink! Not sure if you’re a fan of vodka or-What else did we get?”

“Carlings,” Iris answered.

“Right. That one. Anyway, not sure if you like that, but we got plenty.”

“Uhhh, actually,” John started, but then Sherlock began heading up the stairs to 221 B brushing past the group.

“I don’t like the damp,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Oh come on, Sherly,” Lucy teased.

“Don’t call me that!” He grumbled.

“I got a dehumidifier,” she tried convincing him.

“Well actually our flat is a little bigger, so uh why don’t you come up?” John nodded and then smiled. “So come on then.”

“Fine with me,” Iris shrugged and followed the men up the stairs. She wanted to observe the detective a bit more if she was being honest, curious about how his mind worked. She had been the main intelligence agent for The Family since she was picked up by Boss years ago. Iris considered herself intelligent-a true puzzle solver- but Sherlock Holmes was on another level and she wondered if she could keep up with him.

“This’ll be fun,” Lucy agreed too drunk to realize the risk they were taking. However, part of her thought hiding in plain sight might be the best method with Sherlock.

———

“Pass-pass me another beer,” John mumbled from his place on the couch, a dopey look across his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes at his inebriated friend before requesting another as well.

“Cheers,” Iris smirked handing the two a can each.

“You still got those eyeballs, Sherlock, or did you finish your experiment?” Lucy called from the kitchen, her head stuck under the sink cabinet looking for them. The woman was teetering on plastered, but was determined to find the jar to show her friend.

“Human eyeballs?” Iris blanched as John chuckled beside her.

“Not serial killers. Promise,” he tittered drunkenly.

“Is this coke?” Lucy pulled out a tiny bag of white powder, completely distracted from her original mission.

“Sherlock!” John shouted nearly launching himself at the man. “You said you got rid of it!”

“Did I?”

Lucy opened the bag a eyed the powder. “You need better shit. This isn’t even good quality.”

“Lucy!” Iris called out.

“We should but them on leashes,” John muttered under his breath as he shook his head.

“Should I tell your brother you’re doing drugs?” Lucy asked Sherlock with a snicker.

He groaned in response, his head falling back against the back of the chair he was in. “So you’ve met Mycroft? How unfortunate. How much is he paying you to spy on me?” He suddenly remembered that there were drugs in the woman’s hand and pointed to the baggie. “And that was for an experiment!”

“First of all, he kidnapped us,” Lucy laughed, ignoring the detective and putting the drugs back where she found them. John shook his head and mentally noted to throw the bag out. He hoped he’d remember to do it. The last thing he needed was a strung out Sherlock on his hands.

“Absolute bastard,” Iris grumbled shifting in her seat. “No offense.”

“No, you are correct,” Sherlock agreed.

“Are all you Holmes’ so-,” Lucy paused not wanting to say the wrong thing. “So Holmes like?” She mumbled. “I told him to be a normal person and call you if he wanted to know what you were up to.”

“Oh, I won’t answer,” Sherlock started. “And I wouldn’t consider the man normal by any standards.

“Oh well, I tried.” Lucy shrugged. “But don’t you worry, Sherly. I’m a sucker for men in suits, but I’m no rat.”

“We will see, won’t we?”

“The BDE though,” Lucy popped her tongue. “He’s got it,” she tittered and rocked on her heels.

“BDE?” Sherlock asked not understanding the slang, trying to conjure the meaning of those three letters.

Iris cackled, tossing her head back at the confusion plastered on Sherlock’s face. She could practically see him trying to decipher the phrase. She decided to take pity on him.

“It’s BDE, Sherlock. You know-big dick energy?”

The girls giggled at the disgust that crossed the faces of the men and went back to sipping their drinks. Sherlock’s phone lit up suddenly, distracting him from his drink. He picked up the phone and began his drunken attempt at reading the message from George-or was it Gerald?


	5. A Hot Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a call and an adventure is planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy!  
> Thank you for the kudos! I appreciate every one!

The next few minutes were a blur for the party of four in Sherlock and John’s flat. Sherlock’s phone was ringing and then he was talking-slurring really- into the receiver. He stood suddenly, ordering John around, and John, ever the soldier, stood at attention and followed blindly even in his drunken state. Caught in the rush of the sudden change of pace, both Lucy and Iris found themselves following after the two and in the back of a cramped cab. Lucy was practically on John’s lap and tried her hardest not to elbow Iris, who was also spilling into Sherlock’s side.

“I’m like one hundred percent sure I’m already invested, but where are we going?” Lucy asked as the cab doors closed.

Sherlock’s head snapped to look over at the rest of the backseat, momentarily forgetting the extra companions. He must’ve drank more than he thought and scolded himself for it.

“What are you doing here?”

“You said to hurry up,” explained Iris with a pout.

“I was talking to John, obviously!”

“Shoulda been more specific,” Lucy shrugged as John moved out from under her and opened the door. He quickly realized the girls weren’t budging and didn’t want to put the effort in arguing.

“I’ll ride up front,” he offered. The rest of the backseat became more spacious as he left, but Iris found it difficult to pull away from Sherlock. He was the kind of character she’d only read about in stories-a genius detective. That type of person didn’t exist in reality, but here he was and she was all but sitting in his lap. She couldn’t stop herself from looking into those blue eyes of his and wondering exactly what lay behind them. She sighed as she slid off towards Lucy’s side. Where would she be if Boss had found him first instead? Probably still in that hell hole.

“Rainham Landfill,” Sherlock said to the driver nestling himself against the side of the car door giving the women even more space. With an affirmative from the driver, the cab took off through the London traffic.

Soon enough they were filing out of the cab, which John had to pay for, and following Sherlock toward the congregation of police cars parked along the side of the landfill’s entrance.

“It’s late,” Sherlock complained to Lestrade as he approached the group. The sun was just setting over the piles of trash, still enough light to look over the evidence available.

“Looks like a body dump,” he shrugged off the genius’ cold demeanor. “Thought you’d want to take a look.” It was then he noticed the the women with Sherlock and John.

“Ahem, friends of yours?” He asked but Sherlock had already passed him, eyes locked on the scene.

“Greg, this is,” John started but was interrupted by the others.

“Iris Hastings,” she said offering her hand. He greeted her and then extended his own to the other woman. “Greg Lestrade. I’m the DI who takes Sherlock seriously,” he chuckled.

“Lucy Adams. So does Sherlock make it a habit of bringing friends to crime scenes?”

“Seems so,” Greg sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Guess you can wait here until he’s done.” He turned back to John. “We’re taking the body but I figured he’d want to see where it was dumped.”

“Good on you,” John nodded, seemingly sobered now. The long ride in the car had doneits job.

“So uh, how’d you two fall in with these boys? If you don’t mind me asking?” Greg asked.

Before either Lucy or Iris could answer, a shout was heard from the landfill. It was definitely Sherlock calling for John, who started after him followed by Greg. Iris and Lucy glanced at each other and with a shrug, they ran off after the boys.

Sherlock was crouched over a mostly mutilated corpse, his knees now stained with the muck. John rushed to Sherlock’s side, careful of the debris around him. Lucy pulled Iris along the side to get a better look at what the two were examining on the body when she saw the corpse’s face. Immediately, she sobered and nudged Iris to look at her. When her green eyes fell on Lucy, the brunette pointed out the features to her.

It was him. Brian Sean Holt, the man the two of them had body dumped less than a week ago. It wouldn’t be long for the police to realize he wasn’t dumped here, but transported via garbage truck from North London, especially with Sherlock’s help. Panic surged through Lucy, but was immediately shoved down. She’d been in worse situations, even though she considered getting caught up in the investigation of her own crime pretty bad. She’d get out of this one too, she assured herself. She’d always been good at hiding in plain sight, a trait Boss instilled and nurtured.

Iris, on the other hand, felt chills run up and down her body at the discovery. Killing him was one thing, but being caught would be something else entirely. None of The Family had ever been caught and she didn’t want to be the reason. Boss would probably get to her first.

Iris did not needlessly kill. She stayed in the background, gathered intel, pulled strings, but knew how to handle death when the situation required it. Bad things happened to bad people, she reassured herself. She knew that agent was going to sell out his own organizations secrets and that Boss was very curious about what was in those files. That was the reason she had been assigned the task of stealing it from him. Of course, she just had to get caught which led to the chase that ended in the agent’s life less than a week ago. It was her or him, she rationalized.

Rationalizations helped her process the situation she found herself in. For one, hers and Lucy’s DNA was definitely on the body, however, their DNA would not be found in any database. Secondly, Sherlock would surely deduce that the body was brought to the landfill and not dumped there initially. He’d find the exact bin they had used and she was certain they were on security footage though they were careful to hide their faces. Mouse, with his computer skills, could easily take care of that though. Lastly, Mycroft Holmes would become involved in the investigation and that was what she feared the most.

Iris had studied Mycroft from a distance while figuring how to get the agents’ information she needed. She stayed off his radar knowing she’d be dead if he caught her. Aside from his obvious suspicion, Iris gauged from their one and only interaction that he didn’t particularly like either woman. In addition, she didn’t know how much truth he knew about her. Not her business with The Family, but before she was a part of them. She was supposed to be dead after all.

“We have to call Mouse,” Iris hissed quietly as the two stepped away from the scene.

“I know,” Lucy sighed. “Shit, this is bad.”

“It’s about to get worse.” Iris grabbed Lucy’s shoulder and physically turned her toward the road where a sleek, black car had just pulled up. The door opened revealing Mycroft Holmes and his assistant.

“Fuck me,” Lucy groaned as she quickly typed out a message on her phone. Iris peeked at the screen.

“You have Boss’s direct line?”

“I have everybody’s direct line,” Lucy replied as Mycroft approached the scene.

“What did you say?”

“I’m apologizing in advance for the sins I’m about to commit,” she said, eyes locked on the back of the older Holmes’ head. Iris could guess what she was planning. Lucy was not articulate or a great planner, but she was damn good at getting what she wanted and if she wanted someone out of the way, she always had a way to do it. Iris visibly faltered at the realization of what was coming. This was not how she had hoped to spend her time off at all.


End file.
